The torch light reflected from a pool of shimmering, precious treasures. The shadows of the cave gave way as the fire moved forward between a tall chasm of jagged stones, dancing away to grant entrance to Daemon. He hesitated in his steps, huddled close to the rocky wall with his torch held high. A chamber did exist this deep into the mountain’s split, the rumors were true, and so were they about the treasure to be unearthed. Piles of coins filled one half of the space, towering tall and disorganized, silks and jewellery and gems scattered about and rolling over top of each other.

The rumors were true that this chamber existed, housing more than enough wealth Daemon needed, but he wondered aloud, his lips quivering, “... But what of the dragon?”

Daemon studied every corner of the cave that he could perceive, as far as his light could stretch. The innkeeper’s warnings, the ones he brushed off as the kitchen staff laughed, were gnawing at his mind. Supposedly a dragon dwelled deep into the north mountain’s crags, hording a treasure all to itself. A beast like that, if real, would burn his flesh clean off the bone, Daemon horrifically imagined.

But the shadows didn’t unveil a monstrous shape. Dameon’s temptations were great, and so he moved forward recklessly, but unpunished. In the open clearing just at the foot of the golden mounds, he awed at the loot closely. He came here only for one sack of gold, and one sack was all he brought, but a whole crew was going to be needed for this excavation!

“And they called me the fool, when it was them all along! Hah!” Daemon sneered, rubbing his chin confidently. A coin recoiled off his leather boot, having rolled down a slope of treasure. He retrieved it, his thumb glossing over the kingdom’s crest. “How angry will the guild be, upon seeing me return successful? Their faces will be a greater treasure…”

Then another coin rolled to his boot, fallen from somewhere else. As he looked to it, a scoop of items slid towards him, and then another little wave. Dameon dropped the coin and held out his torch shakily. Quickly did he realize how unnatural the ground seemed to shake, and how a pushing power resonated from within the center of the treasures.

A geyser of gold bubbled up from the horde, and then a sprout of wings launched curtains of coins to both sides. The treasure was rising, pushed up from the beast slumbering underneath. A growl added to the rumbling, a huge creature promising to unveil itself. Daemon gasped, his heart escaping him as the torch did his grasp, his source of light now at his feet to cast an even greater, larger shadow of the monster’s shape, intensely looming as it painted the back of the cavern.

“A visitor…? How many moons must it have been since…?” A voice hissed, nearly lost in the unruly sound of coins pouring over each other. “Perhaps finally an offering has come to be made? To be added to my collection? Another treasure, or… another life…?”

The beast crept towards Dameon, hunched forward under the dwindling weight of treasure on its back. Daemon bent back to marvel at such a mighty scene until he fell backwards to the ground, where he then raced to retrieve not a weapon, but the torch. The fire was held high, to give image to the monster he trembled before.

But he did not stutter the beast’s name as dragon, nor anything. The light revealed that, perhaps, that wasn’t the creature dwelling here -- or was it? The shape of a lady was unmistakable, but so were the reptilian features. Slender and feminine limbs ended in hard scales and claws, a dark purple color that nearly melded into the shadows. From her head came two fierce horns and a curtain of pink hair, a color not normal for any human. Odder still was her attire, ragged and fastened together from what had to be large scraps; a skirt that concealed little at the sides, and a top that covered only her small chest, leaving her shoulders and midriff undefended.

This was not the exact picture of a dragon that Daemon nor his guild had ever imagined. As stunned as he was that the riches were trapped, what puzzled him the most was the creature standing over him. He noticed, too, that she wasn’t even as towering as he initially thought, no longer seeing the illusion of the gold and the shadows; she was statuesque, perhaps thirty meters high, but the appearance of a young woman gave her a petite look that was hard to take seriously.

She had been smiling, a flash of fangs to match her arrogance, but it faded to an annoyed glare. Daemon, she thought, wasn’t shaking enough, not shivering enough. “You are in the presence of Yvedawn, awakening her from the most lovely slumber,” she announced with an unabashed haughty tone. “Speak your name, and then your purpose. You are being humored.”

Dameon had flinched when Yvedawn spoke, then flinched again when realizing she had a name. He stood up, gathering his nerves and even a shred of confidence. If she could speak and be understood, then she could be reasoned with certainly -- or at least lied to, Daemon considered.

“M-My name is Daemon Oversed,” he replied, taking moments to steady himself beforehand. “M-My purpose is to, err, return to my guild w-with a worthwhile treasure. Dear Dragon, I say, y-you’re overwhelmed with this much treasure, so it was my belief to relieve you of--”

“Pah! Hoho~ I must admit, I am amused! Humored me you have, quite well I say!” Yvedawn laughed, vaguely hiding her mouth with a few fingers. “To your bane, that is not how the world works. This treasure is mine, and of no one else’s belonging! It is in fact a fair claim to say that anything here is of my possession -- lives included.” With that, she pointed a grim claw down at Daemon, that smile slowly returning.

Daemon could feel the sweat seep past his head cloth. “Certainly, o-one as great as you would not be a-amiss if just one humble sack of coins were to--”

“Amiss I would be! Must I repeat myself, adventurer?” Yvedawn stepped forward, her footstep causing more coins to shift and slide. “Nothing will leave my cave. Not gold, nor you. After all, it would be troublesome if you inspired curiosities from tiresome townsfolk, gossiped of my horde…”

“O-Oh, but I promise, y-your cave will remain secret!” Damone urged back to the chasm he entered from, slow steps meant not to draw her attention closely. “I-I have no reason to return nor c-could I forgive myself i-if others came here only to die to you! Definitely, no one will ever know--”

A string of coins flicked up as Yvedawn’s tail rose from a stretch of her horde. The tail, long and heavy like a toned arm, slapped hard against the cave floor just behind Daemon. He twisted to guard himself from what he thought was an attack, but it was only to prevent him from leaving. He spiralled back to face Yvedawn, then realizing she had crept closer while he was distracted. He imagined darting under her draconic legs, a possibility since he was level with her shins, but he doubted he could dodge her now.

“Please make yourself comfortable, mortal. You needn’t worry of leaving, it simply will not happen.” Yvedawn sighed, reeling her tail closer around Daemon, and pulling him closer in its loose coil. “It has been so long since I have last seen a human. Indeed, I have forgotten how small your kind can be…”

Daemon gawked at the woman above him, but feared the dragon around him. The tail was blocking his path out, but more than that, it also flicked at his side, gripping at his arm almost like an embrace. Almost, and then actually -- She’s wagging her tail? Daemon thought, hesitating to just push Yvedawn’s tail back.

It seemed unlikely, but the expression hanging above him confirmed his theory. The sly smile and the interest in her eyes were signs of how she felt. “Pardon me again, b-but are you getting… excited?”

Yvedawn’s smile poofed. “Wh-What? Excited?” Her composure leaked. “And by that you mean…?”

“Oh, it’s a jest,” Daemon chuckled. “Your tail moves like the village dog. It’s cute. Somewhat…”

“Cute?” Yvedawn coughed. “Dog? I-I am no dog!” Her tail rushed up in a cringe, scattering some more treasures. “And I am not excited! Whatever you mean by that! Hah, this insolence is-- err, i-it needs to unlearned! At once! Y-You will be put into your place, disrespectful mortal!”

Daemon guarded himself with the torch and his arm, but he didn’t feel any primal fear. He was uneasy and ready to jump, but Yvedawn’s response was short of a tantrum, clearly troubled by internal doubts. What display would she put on for him?

A growl escaped Yvedawn’s lips, a sound that built suspense. She inhaled, exhaled, then inhaled again, and as she did, she craned her neck back and puffed her chest. She motioned to roar-- “Gah!” Unfavorably, a cough of a smoke left her mouth, aimed up at the cavern ceiling. She gagged, hunching forward to clear her throat and try again. A second attempt-- “Kah!” Worse than before, a burp of smoke that she coughed harshly from.

Daemon trembled, but not from any fright. He was chuckling, and then struggling to not laugh. “Yvedawn, w-was that as the rumors say would be… fire breath?”

Yvedawn tried again, quickly and impatiently, but she couldn’t summon a flare from her aching throat. Only smoke, if that, would jet on command. Clearly Daemon was right, and that knowledge made breathing fire even harder.

She adjusted her posture, spreading her legs in steps that threatened Daemon more than her attempts did. She groaned, “S-Something isn’t right! A-And if you laugh, I-I will absolutely burn you!”

“Absolutely, absolutely,” Daemon laughed, managing to space himself further from Yvedawn. He observed her persistence, and noted it well; she was distracted while trying again and again to call up an actual flame to not even frighten him, but just convince him that she could. His eyes finally broke the strange scene and to the puddles of riches at his feet. “It would be a terrible fate, being smoked to my end…”

Yvedawn growled, a whine unbecoming of a dragon. “Another jest, what madness plagues you?!” She stomped, fists against her hips. “I-It’s the stagnant cave air, mortal! Th-That is why I have difficulty breathing fire! Would you rather I boast my power by laying waste to your village, hmm? I could fly to your home and engulf it all in flames from above!”

“You very well could, I-I am doubtless,” Daemon lied, “but I am surprised. Your wings, they are not very wide from what I perceive, and so for them to carry you would be just as enthralling of a sight…”

“Not very wide?” Yvedawn repeated after Daemon, and her concern turned to her wings. She looked to them like asking a question. “I-I can indeed fly! I can…! I just haven’t had to, not for years, a-and…” As she spoke, her wings flapped without much power. They were weak, due to the exact excuse she gave. After years of laying safe and comfortably in the northern mountain, there wasn’t much need to fly, and her huge body could travel quickly across land well enough. Regret for this laziness consumed her, insisting that she assure herself that she could fly if she wanted, like she was supposed to.

In that meantime, Daemon took up on her being distracted. One arm kept open a sack while the other swept in as much gold and silver and anything else into it, anything he could make out as precious that the grounded torch illuminated. He hopped up to his feet, the sack overfilled with more than enough money to pay his guild debt.

Yvedawn struggled to have her wings thrust enough to hover, or even conjure a gust. Dismayed, she stuttered up an excuse for Daemon, “Th-The stagnant cave air is, of course--” But where she thought his tail was denying his exit, he was already past it. She lifted her tail higher, finding Daemon short from the chamber’s exit. He was brazenly robbing her, no less while she was overcoming a personal anxiety.

“Halt! H-Halt, mortal! Err, Daemon? Daemon, please don’t leave yet!” She hurried to the mouth, but the narrow path for Daemon was a crawl for Yvedawn. She stumbled to catch up with him, her clumsy steps bringing dust to unsettle itself from the dormant rock. “Daemon, d-don’t go! Ergh, I-I won’t burn you o-or your village, so halt now and become my prisoner!”

Daemon laughed, scurrying further into the crag like a snide mouse. As slender as the dragon was, Yvedawn’s proportions made her chase far too burdensome. He was actually getting away from a dragon with a bag of loot, such a haul that he didn’t blink when a few coins spilled out. In fact, if anything tugged at him to look back, it was Yvedawn’s plea, and how particularly genuine it sounded.

“You can make me that promise as I make one of my own; I will return, Yvedawn!” Daemon teased, taking quick glances at her while he still had the chance. “After a long night at the tavern! And I’ll have more than one bag to fill when I do return.”

A high-pitched cry followed Daemon until he was marching out of the mountain’s split, a noise interrupted with sad coughs of smokey attempts. He wouldn’t rest until far from the cave entrance, collapsing to his knees only so he could fasten his loot into its bag and sling it over his shoulder. He laughed openly, slapping his armor and almost rolling down a hillside in childish amusement. He gazed back, through the dirt and deep into the mountain where the chamber likely was, fondly thinking of this adventure. He’d have a tale to tell for the guild, as well as a horn of ale each.

Yvedawn slunk back into her cavern after having given up the pursuit. The only coolant for her frustration was the despairing embarrassment. She had been made a fool of by an adventurer, she had dishonored her dragon blood. Bards would be teasing her for ages, she feared most of all. She threw herself onto her bed of coins, as though tripping over every way she regretted that interaction. There was no way of going back to change what happened, so Yvedawn thought ahead, and wondered how she’d get revenge for this humiliation.